


Illusions

by DameRuth



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: Sometimes we deceive ourselves as much as we deceive others.[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2009.07.17.]
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Illusions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [blows_things_up](http://community.livejournal.com/blows_things_up/) First Great Ace Ficathon on LiveJournal, prompt = "running."
> 
> The setting for this story sprang from recent news reports about the Dead Sea and its environs, if that's of possible interest. Thanks to aibhinn for beta-ing and 80s-picking!

It was a sign of how long Ace had been traveling with the Doctor that she still had the breath to talk, even while running nearly full-tilt. Time travel was better than aerobics, at least the way the Doctor did it.

"What I don't . . . understand . . . Professor," Ace said, between inhalations, "is why . . . we're running."

"Really Ace," the Doctor, running at her side, responded. He had his umbrella in one hand, and was using the other to keep his hat firmly on his head. "I should think that would be obvious." He sounded strained from the effort of running, but was able to speak nearly normally all the same. He was tougher than he looked, Ace had to admit.

She risked a glance over her shoulder, trusting her feet not to tangle themselves up in the meantime, grateful for the polarized lenses of the sunglasses that cut the glare of the sun and kept her from being blinded.

The Xsar'an war machine was gaining ground on them, slowly but inexorably, a massive construct of gleaming metal, hydraulic "tendons" and glittering red laser sights, looking like an unholy blend of Terminator, lion, and dinosaur. The Doctor had said the Xsar'at deliberately designed their battle machinery to be frightening in appearance as well as brutally functional, to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies (basically everyone but select other Xsar'at).

Ace had to admit, the Xsar'at might be a bunch of xenophobic bastards, but they were really good with their designs.

As if in response to Ace's glance, the pilot of the war machine (hidden deep inside its armor-plated exterior), casually lobbed a plasma bolt in the direction of its quarry. It struck well wide of Ace and the Doctor, causing an explosion of salt crystals as the vaporized matter at the point of impact expanded outward. Both of them ducked and swerved, but there were no more shots to follow.

_He's playing with us, like the Professor said, watching us run,_ Ace thought. Even though she should be grateful, since that mean the Xsar'an didn't just fire a fragmentation grenade at them and shred everything within a fifty-meter radius, it made her angry. They were just prey, like mice to a cat, not a threat to be taken seriously.

She gritted her teeth and concentrated on running, the rough salt crust crunching under her feet: potentially treacherous as it crumbled, but at the same time providing good traction. She and the Doctor and the Xsar'an machine were the only things moving on the whole of the wide salt flat, bed of an ancient, long-evaporated sea that ran in a smooth, white expanse right up to the feet of the distant mountains. Here and there the surface was broken by ridges of black basalt, jutting up through the salt like bones beneath a mummy's cracked, dried-out skin.

Ace licked her dry lips, tasted -- no surprise -- salt, though whether from the air or her own sweat, she couldn't tell. In the far distance, the illusion of water ghosted over the salt surface, but she could run forever and never reach it. Just an illusion, refraction and heat differentials.

She couldn't hear anything but the inexorable crackling, crunches of the war machine's huge metal feet punching through the salt crust, not even her own footsteps.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small spot of red, one of the marker stakes pounded into the white salt; it was a tiny thing, but it stood out vividly against its colorless surroundings. The Doctor saw it too.

"Run," he shouted, and picked up his pace into a full-out sprint.

_I_ am _running,_ Ace couldn't help retorting in her head, but she knew what he meant and began to force her pumping legs in earnest. They needed a sufficient lead for this to work, otherwise . . . She didn't let herself contemplate otherwise, just turned off her brain and ran.

Another marker, a swerve to the left, and then they'd reached one of the basalt ridges. The Doctor was in the lead, and he scrambled up onto the stone, turning and extending his umbrella to Ace. She sprang forward and caught the question-mark handle, letting the Doctor pull-guide her up. Her free hand hit rough, hot stone and her feet found purchase. Clinging, she looked back over her shoulder one last time.

The Xsar'an war machine took another step that punched through the salt crust . . . but then kept going, through and down. Cracks raced away from the point of impact, fracturing, fragmenting, and then giving way as the massive sinkhole, left behind when the last of the sea's waters evaporated, collapsed inward under the machine's weight.

Even before they heard the impact of the war machine hitting the bottom of the hole, the Doctor had vaulted over the crest of the spine, with Ace following. They just had time to hunch down in the shelter of the stone, curling into the smallest protective balls possible, before the charges Ace had rigged, triggered by the cavern's collapse, went off.

The first explosion was immense; the second, the result of the war machine's damaged power supply going critical, was bigger. Even with her fingers jammed desperately in her ears and eyes squeezed shut, the light and noise nearly blinded and deafened Ace and the shock that ran through the stone she huddled against made her insides feel like jelly.

The noise and vibration went on and on, as the impact shattered the fragile surface of the flat, the roofs of all the tunnels and caverns running under the surface collapsing in one huge domino-roll of destruction. Then, slowly, the crackling roar subsided, fading into faint tremors, and then, as Ace pulled her fingers from her ears, to nothing more than the sound of shifting fragments.

She looked at the Doctor, who was looking at her, and together they heaved a long sigh of relief. He was powdered all over with dust and salt; Ace was certain she looked no better. But the were alive, and the Doctor's plan had worked.

They scrabbled back up to the top of the rock spine, and from there the devastation all around was clearly visible: great cracked, heaved plates of salt crust jumbled everywhere. Over everything, a fine mist of dust and salt drifted in the air, already being blown and shifted by the breeze. As aftermaths went, it was one of the more impressive ones Ace had seen.

Of the war machine and its pilot, there was nothing to be seen; everything had been buried by shifting and sliding rubble after the explosion.

Ace couldn't help grinning. Now that was what she called proper payback to someone who deserved it.

"Wicked!" she announced happily.

"A wicked end for a sticky customer," the Doctor agreed, sounding grimly final. He removed his hat, shook dust from it, and then briefly held it over his hearts, as if to honor his fallen opponent. The gesture wasn't respectful; rather the opposite. Ace grinned more widely at that, and added her own, one-handed gesture of non-respect.

"Ace!" the Doctor said, but his tone of admonishment was half-hearted. He plopped his hat back on his head and reached for his pocket. He pulled out a canteen that shouldn't have fit inside and handed it to Ace. She took it gratefully. The water inside was cool and sweet -- she'd never tasted anything better or more refreshing.

The Doctor reached into his pocket again and produced a second canteen for himself. Ace watched; she never got tired of the trick. The Doctor had promised to tell her how it worked, when she'd reached the point in her studies that she could understand it. It was a tremendous motivation to spend as much time as possible in the TARDIS library and lab -- her old teachers would be surprised at her dedication to learning, now; but then, they hadn't been able to offer enticements half as good as the ones the Doctor could.

Still no sign of movement from below.

"Well," Ace said, after a second sip of water. "Guess we should start walking." They had a long way to go; the TARDIS was parked well off in the distance (seated firmly on a another ridge of stone, just in case), not even visible from here thanks to the watery heat haze that rippled in the near distance.

"An excellent idea," the Doctor seconded. They followed the stone ridge as far as they could, then, very carefully, helped one another across the ruined surface. There were a few adrenaline-pumping moments as debris shifted and slid, but eventually they made it to the unbroken surface, and from there it was easy. Nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other.

The Doctor popped open his umbrella for shade and they walked close together to take advantage of it, falling easily into step.

"But seriously, Professor," Ace began, carrying on their earlier exchange as if it had never been interrupted, knowing the Doctor would follow her train of thought. "Why were we running? We didn't have to come all the way out here and go to all this work to blow him up. We could have done that back at the city. Would have put a hole in the street, yeah, but the whole place was already shot to pieces. It would have been a lot faster."

"I wanted to get him alone and offer him the choice to leave this planet; it was safer and easier if there were no bystanders," the Doctor explained.

"Safer for everyone but us," Ace pointed out, but it was an observation, not an accusation. "Did you really think he'd do it? Leave, I mean."

At the time, she'd thought the Doctor was mad. The Xsar'an captain had already sworn, out loud, over the comm system, to keep fighting to the bitter end even though the rest of his invasion/scouting team had already been destroyed. He hadn't exactly sounded like someone they could reason with, or even someone sane by that point. But the Doctor had insisted, leading the Xsar'at in a long chase across the planet's surface, taking short TARDIS-hops (pretending to have engine trouble) and then waiting for him to catch up after his sensors located them at each new location. This last hop had been the longest and had given them time set up the charges and the markers. The Doctor had been to this planet before, and had already known this spot was exactly where they'd end up.

The Doctor sighed, and his face in profile was . . . sad, Ace guessed. Disappointed, but resigned. "Not really," he admitted. "His kind seldom does. They're all wrapped up in the illusion of control and don't like to acknowledge any other reality." He rolled the last "r" very thoroughly, for emphasis.

"So why offer him a choice at all?" Ace asked. Not that it hadn't been brilliantly dramatic, the Doctor standing small and straight in front of the terrible war machine, his hands neatly folded on the handle of his braced umbrella, demanding in ringing tones that the Xsar'at captain leave this world in peace or suffer the consequences. But it seemed pointless to her, the ending inevitable.

The Doctor was silent a long time, but Ace could tell he was thinking, not refusing to answer. "I suppose because I've got my own illusions," he finally said. "And I'm equally reluctant to give them up."

Ace took a long, thoughtful swig of water, and the two of them walked the rest of the way back to the TARDIS in contemplative silence, while all around them rippled the ghostly memory of the vanished sea.

* * *

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